


All I Loved

by PhantomOfMusic (CaptainAmericasShield)



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm making myself sad, I'm so sorry, If you think this Phantom is not based on Ben Lewis you would be wrong, Mostly sad - gets a little heartwarming in the middle but it's mostly sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15797013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmericasShield/pseuds/PhantomOfMusic
Summary: Set three months after the end of Love Never Dies. Erik isn't handling Christine's death well. He's started to shut his own son out of his life and desperately wants to learn how to be a good father to Gustave while still dealing with his own grief. With a little help from Gustave, Erik is able to deal with the loss of Christine while figuring out how to be a good father in the process.





	All I Loved

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. Thanks to everyone who beta read this, you are all awesome :D

It had only been three months since Christine, his Christine, had died. One mistake, his mistake, had gotten her killed. He could never forgive himself. He desperately wanted to take it back. One reckless comment, and his world had ended. One lapse in judgment, and the one person who had ever loved him was gone. Every day felt like a lifetime, every week, an eternity. At times, it became too much for him to bear. There were times he would lock himself in his room for hours and rage at the world, crying and begging whatever higher power did exist, if there was one, to bring Christine back to him - to take him instead. The only comfort he could find was in his son.

 _Their_ son.

 _Gustave_.

He still found it difficult to believe the child, his own flesh and blood, had been born looking _normal_. No deformity, no visible markings. He was perfect, and, God, he looked so much like his mother. The same soft eyes that would always melt his once frozen heart.

He hated that he couldn’t be strong for Gustave. He hated that he was so blinded by his own grief, he could barely find time to comfort his own son, who was grieving the death of his mother in his own way. Erik would do what he could when his son came to him seeking comfort, but it was difficult. This was something completely new to him. He had never loved anyone, no one had ever loved him as much as Christine had. That one flame, the one light in his life had gone out just as soon as it had been rekindled. He was eternally grateful that Gustave had chosen to accept him as his father. Without him, Erik had nothing. No love, no muse, no reason to live. Gustave changed that. His son gave him someone to love, someone to live for.

He knew Christine would be disappointed in the way he was handling her death. She would say he was overreacting. He shook his head. There was no way she would say that- was there? No. Christine was too kind, too understanding, too perfect. She knew he still hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with his emotions after having been forced to suppress them for most of his life.

He was a failure. He failed his Christine, now he was failing his son, his own child. What kind of father was he? One who couldn’t set his own grief aside for one minute to comfort Gustave? One who was so selfish he could only focus on how he was going to move forward, not sparing one thought for his own son? That wasn’t the father he wanted to be. “I’m sorry my Christine. My Christine. My angel of music. I failed you. I’m failing Gustave. I’m so sorry,” Erik said softly, his voice breaking more with every word. Every word bringing him closer to tears until he had collapsed on the floor, sobbing into his hands.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a soft knock on the door of his room. Gustave. Erik stood up quickly and tried to compose himself before walking over to the door.

“Father,” a soft voice from the other side of the door started before pausing. “Are you alright?”

Erik sighed and opened the door. “I—” he started, before pausing. He wanted to lie. He wanted to say he was fine. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to his own son. Not when Gustave needed him and needed to trust him. Not when Erik needed his son. “No. I’m not fine. I’m sorry Gustave. I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible father,” he started, trying to will tears from falling. He needed to be strong. Pull yourself together Erik, your son needs you, he thought before continuing. “I should be here for you—”

“You miss mother,” Gustave said quietly.

Erik paused. “I do. More than you’ll ever know. But that’s no excuse for me not being here for you. That’s no excuse for me not to be a good father.” Before he could say anything else, Gustave stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Erik hesitated for a moment, then returned the embrace.

“I love you, father.” That was all it took for the tears to begin falling again. Erik stood, holding his son and weeping. Weeping for the fact that his son still loved him. Weeping for the fact Gustave understood. Weeping for the fact his son seemed to have faith in him, when he had none in himself.

“I’m so sorry Gustave,” he cried. “Please forgive me.” He felt Gustave embrace him tighter. “I forgive you. You’ve done nothing wrong.” “I’ve been a terrible father. I- I’ve been so caught up in my own grief, I haven’t considered how you felt.” Erik took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. Your mother was- she was the only person who had ever shown me genuine love. Losing her killed me, and I still haven’t quite figured out what I’m doing, or how to deal with this. I promise I’ll try to figure it out as soon as I can for you. I need to be here for you, and I guess I’ve been so blinded by my own grief that I lost sight of that. If there’s anything you need, please tell me. Please let me be here for you.”

“We can help each other,” Gustave said quietly, backing slightly from the embrace.

“I’m sorry?” “You shouldn’t have to stop grieving to help me. We can help each other.”

Erik nodded and knelt, taking his son’s hands in his own. “I like that idea,” he said softly. “Thank you Gustave.”

“Things will get better. It won’t be next year, or even in the next couple of years, but one thing mother told me was time can heal wounds.”

Erik smiled sadly. “Your mother did always have a way with words.” He desperately hoped Gustave was right.

He was right. Things eventually did get better. It was a slow process, but they did. The years came, the years went, and Erik strove to be the best father he could be, relying on his memories of Christine and how amazing of a mother she was. He taught his son the way he had taught his Christine. Gustave was a fast learner, and became almost as popular as his mother had been. Erik was filled with pride knowing Gustave inherited his mother’s ear for music, as well as her ability to learn quickly. Watching his son perform and improve was the only thing he needed to prove to himself he was the father he knew Gustave needed and Christine would have wanted him to be.

When Erik knew it was his last day, he was happy. Happy that he had been able to be anything resembling the father Gustave deserved. He was happy he was able to help Gustave become an incredibly talented singer and composer. Happy he hadn’t given up on life after losing Christine like he so desperately wanted to at the time. Happy with the way his life had turned out.

He was surrounded by family. His family. His son. The one person who had given him a reason to live when the one person who had given him that reason was gone.

“Your mother would be proud of you,” Erik rasped, taking a shaky breath.

“She would have thought you made an excellent father,” Gustave replied with a sad smile.

Erik smiled weakly. “I did my best.”

“You did well. Tell mother I love her.”

“She knows,” Erik said with a sigh, laying back and closing his eyes.

The last words he uttered were _I’m coming my angel._


End file.
